


and now you're just a memory

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: News of Rodrigue's death reaches his younger brother, and the Fraldariuses' are torn apart by tragedy once more, leaving the question no one wishes to answer: why must it be them? Why must he fear this fate may befall Felix, and he shall be the only one to remain in a territory he never wished to rule in the first place? Why must they glorify death under chivalry's guise, and not allow them to mourn?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	and now you're just a memory

**Author's Note:**

> I think about the Fraldarius family and immediately get very very sad and now I am here to infect you all with my feelings about Rodrigue's younger brother and how wounded his poor soul must be.

Fraldarius is cold—far colder than it’s ever been. Its air dares to freeze the lone occupant to his place in the chapel, barely visible in the pale moonlight that trickles through its stained glass windows. Despite the peace that is found here, solace under the watchful eye of the Goddess, her warmth is lost upon the one whose trembling grip stares at a piece of parchment within his hold.

It’s common to have a pit of worry in one’s stomach when anticipating letters in wartime. No news is good news, they say, and that a letter can either bring good tidings or end the world in a single stroke of ink. In Isaac’s case, the saying latches onto his form like morning frost, biting and cold.

_ Dear Isaac, _

_ Formalities would seem inappropriate in this moment, despite the circumstances I am writing this to you under. I wish these words would be kinder to you, towards Fraldarius, but that does not seem the case… regardless, forgive me for what I am about to impart. _

_ Your brother, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, fell today on the battlefield. While his death carries one of honor, defending His Highness, to have his end come at the poisoned blade of a distressed maiden who hailed from Adrestia… it is a dishonor to all he has done for Faerghus. It pains me to say his funeral was held at the monastery, as transferring his body to Fraldarius is simply not feasible. I know you wish to bury your brother in the royal cemetery, next to Glenn’s grave. It is a shame you could not say goodbye. _

_ Young Felix… he has been silent. From when our battalion arrived back at Garreg Mach, and even to his funeral, he did not utter a single word. He hurried to his room with great haste. Perhaps when he can manage, he will write to you, or you can send correspondence to him. Regardless, we must ask you to continue to watch Fraldarius in this time. I realize the burden we are placing upon you, and that while your brother would not wish to stress you further, we cannot leave our territory undefended.  _

_ I cannot imagine your heartache, and I am sorry, Isaac. There is not much else to say. _

_ Be well. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Landis of the Knights of Fraldarius _

He attempts to take in another breath, shallow, as he reads the letter once more. It feels more equivalent to a nightmare, even if a part of him held fear Rodrigue was never to return. War never carries its certainties. Even the most able of soldiers are able to fall to the blade of another, or fall to its circumstances—illness, unforgiving conditions, starvation… and yet, he believed his brother to be above such things.

What a fool he is. 

Isaac knows there’s still a duty for him to uphold. Rodrigue entrusted him with Fraldarius, and he cannot afford to let it slip through his fingers. Despite the loss their territory has just taken, this blow to morale, he is to continue to help in the war as if sadness has not shaken his soul. Despite the late hour, and how sleep is something he needs, Isaac feels as if it shall do him no good.

He sets the letter to the side, not wishing to crumple it. In a cruel way, it’s one of the last remains of his brother, and to ruin it in some way would act as an insult. The parchment has already been stained with his tears, and even that is far beyond disrespecting Rodrigue’s memory. What would others say, seeing his brother weep in an empty chapel at such a late hour? While one would not disparage a mourning soul, after learning of a death in such a terrible way, he cannot help but feel guilty.

Fear grips him as well, tears at his heart and lungs. If Rodrigue, one of their strongest men and able soldiers has fallen… Goddess above, how will he manage if Felix is to die in this war? Will he be forced to swallow the burden of his family’s bodies scattered about Fodlan? 

Glenn’s armor, hollow and charred and stained with blood, lies clear in his memory. The idea of Felix’s sword, painted crimson, flashes through his mind. 

He’s outlived Glenn, outlived his brother. Goddess help him, he does not wish to outlive the last remaining member of his family, who is far too young to be taken by this conflict, even if war cares not for who it claims. 

“Goddess,” he tries, despite how another sob crashes down upon him, “all I ask of you is that young Felix returns to Fraldarius. Do not impart upon me the sin of receiving another letter of this nature. I… I am not strong enough to handle it.”

One may argue there lies strength in admitting weakness, but Isaac finds that it does nothing to comfort him. 

“I do not know what else I am capable of accomplishing. This was not a task I was trained for.” Always the second son, Isaac was. He holds no Crest, and was often set to the side when conversations of Fraldarius’ future came into being. “I… I do not know—how I can sit in your office, Rodrigue, and pretend that this is—that I will be well, knowing you are not to return to us.”

It’s not as if Isaac will ever have the grace of speaking to his brother’s grave. Even were they to fashion one, it’ll be empty, a cruel simulacrum of his honor. He will not be in Fraldarius, resting alongside their parents. No matter how hard he tries to imagine a different fate, Isaac knows he’ll be lying to himself.

“Our people,” or are they his now, he wonders, “shall not condemn me for mourning, I know, but this is not the face I can show to them. You did not weep publicly when Glenn died, nor your wife. Despite your heartache, you were able to remain strong. I… I fear that is lost on me.” 

Where lies the guidance the Goddess once offered him? Why are his hands clasped in prayer, as if that will bring Felix back to Fraldarius, alive? It failed to bring back his brother, and he cannot feel the usual warmth he attains from speaking to her. Is it possible, when entrenched this deep in despair, he is unable to reach her?

Another sob leaves him, and Isaac figures it is best to let these tears take their course. The notion of coming to the chapel each night to mourn in private is one he happens to be ill fond of, but it is better to attempt to shed his heartache where there are no eyes upon him.

“Isaac?”

He doesn’t startle, for it’s only a voice he recognizes, but one he hardly wishes to upset. It belongs to the head of the chapel, one who also has been a close friend for quite some time. There’s times he’s sought his counsel over the Goddess’, for she cannot offer a physical touch when it is needed. While sitting here in such frigid air, overcome by such heartache, Isaac finds he is seeking such a thing, even if he does not feel worthy.

“I did not think you would be awake at such an hour, Noah.” Isaac makes no attempt to wipe any wetness from his face. “I hope I did not disturb you.”

“I came seeking you, if I may speak plainly.” There’s worry evident in his tone. “May I sit?”

He manages a nod, shaky hand reaching out to place the letter, cursed object as it feels, in his lap.

“I know that further condolences are not what you need to hear,” he begins, voice soft, “so, my friend, let me ask how you are faring.”

“Surely that is obvious,” he murmurs, “I do not think this is my finest moment.”

“You have just experienced a great loss, Isaac. You are allowed to mourn.” Noah’s hand rests upon his shoulder. “This is not something I would condemn you for.”

“Rodrigue entrusted Fraldarius to me. If I cannot even face its people without my heart hurting, what does that say of my ability to lead? How can the people look to me for guidance?” He picks up the letter once more, breath shaky as ever. “If their faith is misplaced, I am dishonoring my brother.”

“Do you truly believe they would think ill of you for this?” His expression saddens further as Noah begins to rub his shoulder. “We are all mourning Rodrigue… and as I stated, this is one that affects you personally. I recall you went through similar pain when we lost young Glenn.” 

Rodrigue’s words echo in his mind. 

_ He died like a true knight.  _

Isaac never believed that phrase to excuse why an eighteen year old boy never came home. It caused one of their most serious fights all those years ago, Isaac asking how his brother could  _ dare  _ to utter that phrase to the face of a thirteen year old child. Perhaps it was Rodrigue’s way of coping, but it made his skin crawl to hear him utter such words.

“May I speak to you plainly, Noah?” Isaac folds his hands in his lap, eyes focused on the floor. Perhaps here lies the proper place to speak of another matter that weighs heavily on his soul.

“You know that I shall always listen to you,” he says, “and you do not have to fear judgment. Not from myself, nor the Goddess.”

It’s been something that he’s thought for years now, ever since Glenn’s armor returned to them. Despite the love he holds for his country, his territory, its ideals never took root in his mind. “I do not understand why I am supposed to find glory in my Rodrigue’s death. He died to protect His Majesty, but that does not change the fact the world has robbed me of my brother. Am I supposed to be comforted by this? I… it hardly seems right. Chivalry’s luster… perhaps I am blinded to it.”

“Faerghus’ ideals…” Noah looks to be deep in thought as his gaze rests upon a large stained glass window at the cathedral’s back, one that bears the Goddess’ visage. “I cannot say I agree with them in full as well—certainly not when they are used to glorify loss. I do not think you should feel shame for your line of thought, more so in a case such as this.”

“My brother was steadfast in his beliefs. He always insisted upon calling Felix stubborn for how he went against them, how he too did not see honor in his brother’s death.” Isaac’s hands are shaking still, somehow, as tears continue to fall on them. “I consoled him when we lost Glenn, and… now I cannot do the same. And I cannot let him know that I risk unraveling at the seams.” 

“You are only human. While Fraldarius expects your counsel, it should also give you time to mourn.” Noah breathes a sigh through his nose. “You should not be expected to shed this aspect of yourself. War does not stop for the weary, I am aware, but is it not fair to wish for you to have time to rest?”

Isaac realizes he may not wish to be alone with his thoughts. It may be easier to focus on others, to prevent his laments from swallowing him whole.

“I fear for how Felix will handle this, Noah. He and Rodrigue have spent so many years in conflict, and now he shall not obtain closure.” And surely one watching their father fall in combat is not easy on the mind. “And I am not there to bend an ear, like when he lost his brother.”

Noah gives a nod. “But he is not alone. While he is one who often keeps to himself, Felix does have his friends present, and we must trust they shall lend their assistance when we cannot. You can write to him as well, Isaac, even if he may not respond. To know you are thinking of him may help more than you realize.”

While close is not a term Isaac can easily apply to himself and Felix, he knows Noah’s words are correct. What his nephew needs right now is not condolences or words of pity, but to know someone else is perhaps hurt and angry at the world, just as he is. Fate’s robbed them of their family yet again, cruelly so. He dislikes to feel this bitter, this disillusioned, but would it do him any good to pretend he is alright with what has occurred? 

“I… I also fear this may cause Felix to close his heart off for good. That we shall not get a chance to mourn as a family.” This small, broken family the world’s left them with. “I know that he’s kept his heart at bay since Glenn’s death. I do not know what his father’s shall do to it, or if he’ll ever wish to speak to me on these matters… I cannot feel like a  _ failure _ , Noah. I know Felix is old enough to fend for himself, and…”

Noah’s hand remains on his shoulder, silent as he listens to what Isaac feels are the ramblings of one soon to lose himself in his despair. 

“I want Felix to return to us. I cannot be the remaining Fraldarius—I cannot lose the last member of my family, Noah.” He’s close to rambling now, head dropped into his hands. “Am I to fear every letter I receive from the front lines? My brother was one of the finest fighters in Fraldarius, and Felix’s ability is not to be spoken of lightly. Yet if my brother lost his life in this manner, if—what if—I-I cannot do this again, I…” 

“Breathe, Isaac. You must not let your thoughts go down such a terrible path.” Noah places the letter to their sides, and draws the other in for an embrace. “Losing yourself to despair is not what is needed. While I cannot imagine the pain you are going through, you are not the type to drown in it.”

Isaac does not hesitate to bury himself with Noah’s shoulder, arms tightly wound around his body. Though he attempts to speak, another sob leaves his body, unable to make sense of the world around him. Rodrigue is to never come home, and the fear Felix will share the same fate lies in his heart. Even if he happens to return, he may retreat further into his shell, never to return, Fraldarius’ duke to be colder than its winters.

They buried Rodrigue at the monastery, Isaac wants to say, but it’s impossible to speak through his tears. He cannot rest at their parents’ side, nor can he visit him if the moment arrives amidst the chaos. He and Glenn are not in Fraldarius, and they never will be. Broken armor and tear stained parchment are all that remain. He must keep the faith that Felix’s sword will not be among them.

Isaac continues to weep.

“I admit I do not possess much knowledge when it comes to politics, or helping a territory thrive, but I swear to do what I can, would you request it of me.” Noah holds him just a little tighter, working a hand through his hair. “You are a dear friend of mine, and you are not alone in this. Whatever guidance I can offer you, I shall give it. I only hope you will accept.”

It stands to mention, on top of everything else that claws at Isaac’s heart, he is terribly in love with the man who is holding him. This may hardly be the time to lose oneself in such revelries, and Isaac knows this is not the time nor place to even consider having such comforts. He cannot afford distractions, and as wonderful Noah may be, this is no place for matters of the heart.

“Thank you.” It’s all Isaac can manage, truthfully. “However, for my sake… please, do not burden yourself. I know you have duties—”

“You carry far greater importance. There are other members of the chapel to assist, and I cannot ignore someone in need.” Noah’s voice is soft as ever, full of comforts, akin to a warm blanket Isaac wishes to wrap himself in. “I sought you tonight out of concern, Isaac. I had gone through most of the estate before I thought to check here.”

“I…” Goddess, how is he to respond to this? 

“I am glad that I found you here, and that we were able to talk.” Noah gives him another squeeze. “And I hope we can carry similar conversations in the future. However, my friend, I insist you rest. Let me escort you back to your quarters… it is far too cold to remain in the chapel at this hour.”

Isaac does have to wonder if the cold has contributed to why the tears sting so terribly on his cheeks.

“Come, let me help you stand.” Noah takes his hands, and hesitates for a moment before placing the letter in them. “And when you are able to speak on his further, I will always bend an ear for you.”

He only nods, letting Noah escort him through the empty halls that now define Fraldarius. Weary eyes, still run with tears, do not focus on the portraits of a family long gone. Their gazes, trapped in portraits that speak of happier times, will follow him at every turn as a cruel reminder of what this war has taken from him. The walk to his quarters feels much too long and short all at once, as he’s arrived at his door in a single blink of an eye.

“Is there anything else you may need?” Noah asks softly, hands on his shoulders.

A selfish part of him almost asks Noah to stay, but he knows far better. 

“No.” Isaac shakes his head. “I should attempt to rest, and see where tomorrow takes me.”

Concern flashes in Noah’s gaze, but he nods nonetheless. “If you need me, do not hesitate to seek my aid. I hope you rest well, my friend.” With this, he offers Isaac one last hug before taking his leave.

He is left to an empty room, no more comforting than the chapel in which his sobs were heard. The light that filters through his windows shine upon the bookshelves, full of fables and lighthearted stories of knights who had other desires in life, who were able to live them out with ease. Several of these tales were gifts from Rodrigue, who had once commended Isaac for his perspective on how knights were to be.

And then Glenn died.

Isaac doesn’t wish to lose a part of himself, despite how the world seems intent on scattering his heart across Fodlan’s corners. He cannot do this to Felix, to Noah, to himself. He cannot dishonor Rodrigue’s memory, despite how he thinks his brother would find disappointment in his actions. Fraldarius may not wish to have him, and yet… there lies no other options, he hates to admit. While Isaac may not sacrifice himself in full for his territory, he knows he must lead it until Felix’s return.

As Isaac makes his way towards the bed, he sets the letter on his nightstand with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He’s tired and restless at once, almost afraid to sleep, not wishing to see the words on the parchment come to life. However, Fraldarius is not kind to those who take poor care of themselves. If he falls to illness, it may be him who leaves Felix alone in this world.

Isaac settles himself under thick covers, and hopes a dreamless sleep awaits him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a comment/kudos! If you want to hear about future works and rambles, make sure to follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/that_nebbles)


End file.
